


Not For Sam's Eyes

by mansikka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, PWP without Porn, Porn With Plot, Sam Is Scarred For Life, Sam Is So Done, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a good brother. A kind, considerate one. But even kind, considerate brothers have their limits, and Sam's found his: walking in to find Dean and Cas naked on the table oblious to him being there is where the buck stops.</p><p>But Dean is also a good brother, a kind, considerate one. Which is why he's taking Cas on a roadtrip of sorts, where they can christen new (old) surfaces, safe away from Sam's delicate eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For Sam's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> ...because Sam never seems to cut a break when it comes to Dean and Cas being... insatiable.

“Dean. You're my brother. And as much as I know you're gonna dislike hearing the words, I'm gonna say them anyway, okay? I love you. You know that I do,”

 

Sam gave his placating speech and waited with baited breath for Dean to nod, and stare across at him in obvious suspicion. He'd expect nothing less of him and would worry if he didn't react like that, if he was honest: they weren't exactly well-spoken Winchester words, after all.

 

On Dean's nod, Sam nodded himself, and continued. “And... you know I'm happy for you, right? You... with Cas. You two. I mean. It's taken you long enough. And I really couldn't be happier for you,”

 

Sam paused again, waiting for Dean's response.

 

“There's an almighty _but_ coming next, isn't there?” Dean said, his tone already defensive and on edge.

 

“ _However_ ,” Sam retorted, smiling, though it was slightly sickly and he even went a little bit pale as he spoke. “This... this morning was... uh...” and he closed his eyes, wincing as blasts of images assaulted the backs of them, forcing him to blink them open again immediately. “uh... _educational_ ,” he settled on, screwing up his face and glancing at Dean through a heavy wince.

 

“You like learning, Sam,” Dean pointed out, though a blush crept up his face and down his neck, and he had to avert his eyes to anywhere but at Sam.

 

“Not... I was good without that particular knowledge, thanks,” Sam told him hastily, shaking his head repeatedly as though he was trying to clear it. “And besides... not that I can imagine I'm ever gonna want, or need to know, about _that_ , it's... not something I really wanna learn from seeing my brother-”

 

“Okay,” Dean interrupted him immediately, pinching the bridge of his nose and his face turning another shade more red. “Okay, got it. Consider me told, we'll try to-”

 

“I'm not... I'm not saying _stop_ ,” and now it was Sam's turn to grow red, because actively encouraging his brother's sex life was really not the way he wanted this conversation to go. Not that he _was_ trying to stop it, or do anything to make things-

 

Sam forced himself to cut of whatever train of thought he'd been having and took a gulping breath. “Look. It's just... I guess I figured... I...”

 

As Sam's voice dwindled away, Dean swallowed in discomfort and clenched his jaw, waiting, looking every inch trapped.

 

“It's been ages now. Months. I guess... I kind of expected the honeymoon period to be over by now. You know. That maybe you two would've... got some of it out of your system,” Sam blasted out then, covering his eyes as he spoke as though that would provide a shield against the words he was saying.

 

“I... I'm not gonna apologise that we like-”

 

“Ah,” Sam cut Dean off abruptly, both with that single word and a frantic wave of his hand. “I'm not asking you to. I'm not asking you to do anything, or _not_ to do anything either at the moment, I'm just... I guess I... do you think maybe you could... tone it down a bit? Or just... _warn_ me, maybe?”

 

Dean's face morphed between embarrassment, smugness, and wickedness in the space of just a few seconds. “How do you want me to warn-”

 

“I don't know,” Sam laughed, shaking his head with his own embarrassment. “I'm... I'm not _complaining_ , Dean, I'm not. I'm not asking you to stop... or... even to keep it in your room. Not like we're kids and need to be sneaking about, is it? I just mean... I don't know what I mean,” he finished with, slightly deflated.

 

“Look,” he tried again after another moment of silence between them. “All I'm saying. Is that. Is that... it was... well I guess an _eye opener_ , seeing you spread out like-”

 

“Hey,” Dean said then, his tone now angry and most definitely defensive. “I don't judge you and your preferences-”

 

“I wasn't judging your preferences,” Sam spluttered back in his own defence. “I don't care what you do, or who you do it with. Although,” he said, his eyes narrowing a touch. “Now that you and Cas... I'd not be impressed with you if you... with anyone else-”

 

“I don't want, or need anyone else,” Dean said instantly, both defensively and proudly, as though he was reminding himself how lucky he was to even have Cas in the first place.

 

“Good,” Sam agreed. “I'm... glad. I just meant... maybe... if... if...”

 

“Spit it out, Sammy,”

 

“If you wanna go at it on every surface in the bunker be my guest,” Sam blurted out suddenly then, sucking in a breath and adamantly looking elsewhere. “Just... warn me. Tell me you need the place to yourself for a few hours. Or days,” he added, closing his eyes with a soft whimper as the images came back to him yet again.

 

“I... we're not gonna kick you out of your own home just so we can... you know...” Dean swallowed, and Sam had the distinct impression that certain images were now coming to mind for Dean; things that Sam most definitely did not need to know about.

 

“Honestly?” Sam said, wincing across at Dean as he spoke. “If it meant I didn't have to be woken up by the sight of... of... _that_ -”

 

“We didn't wake you-”

 

“Pretty sure I was half-asleep until I walked through and found you laid out on the table like a Thanksgiving turkey,”

 

The sound of the slap of Sam's hand over his own mouth was joined only by the echo of Dean's whimper of protest as he slid further down in his seat and covered his eyes with his hand.

 

“I... we'll... be more... uh...” Dean stuttered out, suddenly scraping the chair back and scrambling to his feet.

 

Sam nodded without looking up and Dean stood awkwardly for a minute.

 

“Uh... sorry, Sam. About-”

 

“Mmhmm,”

 

“Okay,”

 

Sam listened to Dean's footsteps grow quieter and the click of his bedroom door behind him off in the distance, let out a soft moan, and dropped his forehead down on the table.

 

***

 

“I have an idea,”

 

Sam raised his head, and eyebrows, at the excited tone of Dean's voice, and braced himself. This was either going to be good, or very, very bad, judging by the look on Dean's face.

 

Sam reached out to press pause on his laptop and the room became silent; he nodded once, telling Dean that he was listening, and waiting.

 

“So,” Dean said, practically throwing himself down on the bed beside Sam.

 

Sam jolted, hands curling protectively around the edge of the laptop to stop it from falling and trying not to scowl.

 

“So,” Dean repeated, his face lit up with an enthusiastic smile that did nothing to soothe Sam's nerves. “I've been thinking about the other day. The other morning. You know. When we-”

 

“Uh huh,” Sam replied rapidly, closing his eyes as though he had a migraine approaching and it was all just... too bright.

 

Dean cleared his throat before he carried on. “Yeah, that. And... yeah. Maybe we should give you a few day's peace. From. You know... _that_ ,”

 

Sam nodded, waiting.

 

“Well. I was thinking. Remember that list of Bobby's with all those... I don't know. Boltholes for hunters passing through,”

 

Sam's eyebrows raised even higher. “You mean that list of shacks and huts and barely standing upright _stops_... for if there was literally no other choice available? Like... if the apocalypse _really_ struck or something?” he said, full of disbelief.

 

“Yeah, that one,” Dean said, and Sam could tell he was positively brimming with excitement. “I was thinking. Maybe... maybe me and Cas can go and check some of 'em out. See if any of 'em might actually be some place we can use, you know?”

 

Sam fought to keep the grin from his face as he said, “You mean. You want to... check out... you want... huh?”

 

“Think about it,” Dean enthused, shifting himself to sit more comfortably. “Some of 'em might be okay. Could be worth knowing about in case we get caught out when we're on the road, right?”

 

“And it'd be awful, uh... _convenient_... if said shacks were in the middle of nowhere so you two could have your freak- you could have _privacy_?”

 

“Exactly,” Dean beamed wide as though so very proud of Sam's ability to keep up with what he was thinking.

 

“Dean,” Sam said, in his most patient tone. “You... what if there's like... I don't know. No windows. No doors. No.. roof even?”

 

“So we jump back in the Impala and carry on. Find a motel. Sleep in the car. Road trip, Sammy,” Dean added with utter glee. “It's a win-win. Cas and me, we get, uh... _time_... and you... you get-”

 

“Also time. And my eyes back. And my ears,”

 

“We're not that bad,” Dean denied, but his face told a much truer story that agreed every inch with what Sam was insinuating. “And you said it yourself. Kinda quiet at the minute. Might as well take advantage of the lull, right?”

 

“So you're just gonna... pack up the car with...”

 

“I'll pack up the car like we always used to do before we had this place,” Dean said, shrugging and glancing briefly around at Sam's room. It was true; no one could live out of a car quite like he could, he'd had so very many years of practice doing it after all.

 

“And Cas? What's he think?”

 

Dean grinned impossibly wider, and Sam barely held back a groan. “Gonna ask him tonight. Think he'll be up for it anyway, since he's been kinda restless lately, right?”

 

Sam didn't know whether Dean was looking for his agreement that Cas might agree, or that he'd noticed that Cas was restless, or what. But he nodded anyway, thinking he could get away with answering any and all of his doubts at once.

 

“Sounds good,” was the only spoken response Sam could give, and watched as Dean practically bounced off of the bed with excitement.

 

***

 

Sam helped Dean and Cas pack up the car, and waved them off like a proud parent might do on the first day of school. With less tears, more relief, and absolutely no worrying about whether they'd be okay out there in the big wide world all alone.

 

That was the problem, really, they _couldn't_ leave each other alone, barely for five minute intervals it seemed at times.

 

He waited until the Impala wasn't even a speck in the distance then turned abruptly on his heel, and backed the door closed, hearing the resounding click that echoed out into the stillness of the bunker.

 

He paused, breathed, sucked in a long, lung-filling breath and then exhaled, hard.

 

Sam pushed himself off from the door and began a slow, measured walk, trailing down corridors and up stairs as though he'd never seen half of it before. Parts of it he hadn't, he supposed; it was a big enough complex for there still to be undiscovered places for him to explore, even after all this time.

 

Dean and Cas, he suspected, grimacing a little to himself, had been a lot more thorough in their own exploration of the bunker. And every surface of it. And each other, he added, wincing at the unconscious addition to his thoughts.

 

Quickly shaking that thought firmly out of his head, Sam wondered for a moment whether Dean and Cas would be fruitful in their search for _boltholes_. Then wondered if any of them would still be standing at all once Dean and Cas had finished with them, and immediately sought out beer to chase away the taste of bile in his mouth at the unwanted images that followed.

 

A few days to himself, he thought then, smiling in unabashed relief.

 

***

 

There were many memories Dean was going to happily replay long after this trip, he thought to himself.

 

There was the backseat of the Impala less than three miles out from the bunker, where Cas had demonstrated such flexibility that Dean could have wept in gratitude.

 

There was the half-standing shack where neither of them had been willing to kneel on the so-called floor, and instead Cas had bent him over at an incredibly crude angle, holding him upright as he'd pounded into him unrelentlessly until Dean had painted what was left of the floorboards.

 

There was what could only be described as a shed, where Cas had laid back on what once might have been a chest freezer, spreading his legs and pulling Dean into him with such force, that Dean worried that he'd crush him as he'd fallen forward.

 

But this one, this memory they were making right now would be the one that would stay with him the longest, he knows that, without a single doubt.

 

Cas by candlelight is a sight to behold. Some of those candles are even those huge church pillar ones, Dean thinks to himself in amusement; not that anything they're doing on this tangle of sleeping bags and blankets can be considered as holy.

 

There is a sheen of sweat across Cas' chest, and Dean takes a moment to dip his head down, and lick a path up that finds its way over a hardened nipple and deep into the crook of Cas' neck, where he bites down lightly.

 

Languidly, Cas arches up at Dean's touch, whilst keeping up that same steady stroking of them together in the firm grip of his hand. Cas glances down, sweeping his palm up over the slickness of their heads in one twist, but never breaking the rhythm he has going, and has had going, for what feels like an immeasurable amount of time.

 

Not that either of them are complaining about that.

 

There are no pauses; tongues flick into mouths, fingertips brush over skin, a steady exploration of each other underpinned by this slow, steady build of heat.

 

The soft hush of candle wicks burning, skin gliding and snagging on skin, and lips on lips, are the only sounds there are to be heard here, aside from intakes of breath and low moans of pleasure.

 

If either of them were to look up, look out from this temporary retreat in the middle of nowhere, they would see a cloudless sky sprinkled with stars, a bank of trees touched only by moonlight, and nothing to speak of civilisation for miles upon rolling miles.

 

Dean feels himself getting close, and he's not ready for that; he intends to prolong this night for as long as possible. So he slowly presses his fingers against Cas' wrist until he releases his grip on them both, then raises it, and his other, to either side of Cas' head, pinning them down.

 

Dean lines them up for a moment, thrusting in a way that has their cocks brushing together and their heads dragging tackily as they catch. They both arch and moan, and then Dean is shifting, away from the instinct to keep on rolling his hips against Cas'. Instead he lays on his side, twisting himself over Cas and kissing him thoroughly, only pulling back briefly to grin down at him and show him just how happy he is to be with him here like this.

 

The relative chasteness of this kiss only lasts so long, with Cas letting his knees fall open so that one bounces against Dean's hip. Dean smirks, glances down at the way Cas is laying himself open for him and then moves again, kissing his way down his thigh.

 

He bites down on the sensitive flesh of Cas' inner thigh then kisses against the mark he's left there. Cas sighs, smiling down at him in approval then thrusting his hips forward and making his cock bounce against his stomach, telling Dean exactly what he wants.

 

Dean runs his fingertips over Cas' thighs until his palms are flush against them, then he's pressing insistently for Cas to open wider. Dean dips his head down, kissing the creases between his legs, the base of his cock, the softness of his balls, then moves lower, a length of kisses until he's thumbing him open and licking a long, thrusting stripe over his hole.

 

Cas bucks beneath him, gasping, and Dean lathes him open, flicking and swirling his tongue in, as far as he can, as much as Cas will open for him, until he's keening and writhing and practically begging.

 

But all Dean does is shift, leaning upwards and beginning a trail of open-mouthed kisses that start at his base and work up the underside of Cas' cock, until he can lathe his tongue over his head, suckle there on the crown, and suck him down deep, swallowing around him.

 

The noises, Dean thinks to himself, trying to force his concentration away from what it's doing to his own cock, the noises Cas makes are like nothing he's ever heard before. Maybe he's biased, or lost in the moment, or quite possibly, so far gone on Cas that he's blinded. But he doesn't care; he's here with Cas, he's _got_ Cas, and Dean has every intention of never letting Cas go again.

 

Cas gives the whimper Dean recognises as him being close, and again, Dean doesn't want this to end any time soon. So he's shifting again, laying back beside Cas, whilst Cas reaches out with trembling fingers and cups his face, pulling him in to a kiss that can only be described as worshipful.

 

When he's calmed, and the panting has quietened, Cas smiles, kissing Dean once before rolling him on to his back. And Dean's echoing Cas' earlier movements, spreading his legs wide, offering himself up entirely to Cas' ministrations.

 

Cas is thorough; butterfly kisses, bruising bites, to every inch of skin he can get to. He always starts at Dean's neck, because he knows exactly where to graze his teeth to make Dean's cock twitch. He glances down, smiling triumphantly to see just that happening, and carries on.

 

Shoulders, arms, hands. Nipples, ribs, hips; there is no part of Dean that Cas does not at least brush over with his lips, and by the time he gets anywhere near Dean's cock he is leaking heavily against his own stomach.

 

Cas ducks down to swirl his tongue in the mess Dean's made there, pausing as Dean groans at the sight of that before slowly swallowing Dean down. Dean arches, his fingers fumbling through Cas' hair, holding him in place as he gently fucks up into his mouth.

 

Cas moans around him, letting his fingers drift down until he's spreading Dean open, pulling off without warning then surging his tongue into Dean and pressing insistently there as Dean writhes. He keeps pressing until he can slide his tongue in more easily, smiling at the choked little gasps Dean gives as he does.

 

Cas moves again, pressing a kiss to the underside of Dean's cockhead before swirling his tongue around it and swallowing him down again, sucking hard a couple of times before sliding off once more. He stays kneeled, reaching over awkwardly for the bottle of lube just past the edge of the blankets and snags it, brings it back with him.

 

He shakes it once, hard, as the bottle is coming to an end, and drizzles what's left on to his fingers. He pauses for a moment, raising an eyebrow at Dean who shrugs; there's plenty more of that in the back of the car for next time.

 

Dean parts his legs a little more, sliding his feet higher to give Cas easier access, and smiles in welcome as Cas leans down over him to press a soft kiss to his lips. Dean's head falls back with a soft huff as Cas slides and crooks a finger inside him, groaning quietly as Cas presses that same steady rhythm he'd shown earlier, in and out, unfaltering.

 

Cas flicks his tongue into Dean's mouth in time with sliding in a second finger, scissoring Dean open and gasping with him as Dean arches up at the feeling of his prostate being glanced against.

 

Cas slides in a third finger and keeps his hand steady there, smiling down at Dean and arching an eyebrow. Dean takes the hint, rocking his hips so that Cas' fingers are sliding in and out of him, and Dean is fucking himself open a little more.

 

With another soft gasp, Dean trembles out his hands, reaching for him. Cas breathes out shallow, closes his eyes for a second then shifts, hands sliding down Dean's inner thighs and his thumbs easing him open.

 

Cas rolls his hips, nudging his head against Dean's entrance, then slides all the way inside him in one go, long, and so, so slow, answering Dean's moan with one of his own. When he's fully inside he leans down over Dean, resting on his forearms and spreading his own knees a little for comfort. And then he's kissing Dean, gently, sliding slowly in and out of him in no hurry at all, smiling as Dean drifts his hands up to glance over his sides as he moves.

 

The candles flicker, casting long shadows over their skin as they consume themselves. Blankets are adjusted for comfort, and when Cas' knees begin to tremble Dean pulls him close, wrapping his legs high around Cas' waist so that Cas can flip them over on to his back, and now Dean is the one who is kneeling.

 

He moans, once, long and loud at the shifted position of Cas inside him, pressing down at an angle that feels so good, he has to steady himself against Cas' chest to rein in the urge to just impale himself repeatedly on Cas.

 

Instead, he waits a moment, splays his hands wide across Cas' skin, and rocks, slowly so that Cas is sliding in and out of him leisurely, filling him whole, wrapping his hands around his hips to keep Dean just where he wants him.

 

Dean keeps that pace up, slow, and steady, chasing down that sensation of heat that sparks off in his gut, and spreads out. Cas reaches out, slides a lazy palm against Dean's cockhead and slicking all the way down his shaft, wrapping his fingers around firmly and thrusting up into Dean at the same time.

 

Dean's breathing and rocking becomes more erratic, unable to keep himself from whimpering out a litany of moans and choked off sounds. Cas is answering, just as greedily, digging his fingers in to Dean's sides and keeping him just where he needs him.

 

That slowness they've managed to keep up for so long dissolves; there's just heat chasing heat, moan echoing moan, juddering and jerking until Dean's going completely still and crying out, head thrown back, coming in long arches over Cas' chest. Cas grips harder, lifting himself clean off of the floor as he thrusts up into Dean, once, twice, before stiffening himself, falling backwards and groaning out long, and loud.

 

Dean leans forward, bracing and resting his weight on his hands for a moment as he gets his breath back, smiling as he watches Cas do the same. Then he's sliding off of him and flopping down beside him and on to his back, both of them with their legs and arms splayed as they cool down.

 

When their breathing's back to normal Dean rolls slightly to kiss Cas on the shoulder, then sits up with a soft grumble, looking around and snagging up one of the bottles of water they'd brought in with them. He passes it first to Cas to drink from, then takes several gulps himself, before grabbing his t-shirt from earlier, pouring some of the water on it, then leaning back down, lingering kisses to Cas' lips as he wipes him clean.

 

Cas reaches up, cupping a hand to Dean's face to prolong the kiss before sliding his fingers away and rolling on to his side, huffing in contentment as Dean lays back down and curls himself around him with a soft kiss to his neck as he settles.

 


End file.
